


Adventuring

by live_laugh_read



Series: Billabong Missing Moments [30]
Category: Billabong Series - Mary Grant Bruce
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/live_laugh_read/pseuds/live_laugh_read
Summary: In the summer of 1921, Wally and Norah Meadows are married at last at Billabong and begin their adventurous honeymoon travelling through the wilds of Victoria and New South Wales.  They got up to much more than we thought in the six weeks before we met them again at the Jerrolds'.
Relationships: Norah Linton/Wally Meadows
Series: Billabong Missing Moments [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/392605
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue: The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes in italics are taken directly from _Billabong Adventurers_ by Mary Grant Bruce, and are not my words.

_ It seemed to Norah a long way up the crowded room. But at the end a patch of sunlight came through the window. And in the sunlight, tall and straight and very grave, was Wally; with Jim behind him, no less good to look upon. Norah smiled as she met their eyes. _

* * *

To Wally’s twinkling eyes, Norah was a vision in white. She was considerably cleaner than she had been an hour before, and he suppressed a laugh, thinking about their lagoon misadventure. As he watched her come down the long room to meet him, her eyes softened and he swore her face would split from the radiance of her smile. 

They came to a halt upon reaching the boys, and David Linton turned to his daughter. “Be happy,” was all he said, before squeezing her hand and giving it to Wally. “Look after her,” he told the younger man, clapping him on the shoulder and retiring to the first row of chairs. Andy Ferguson’s fiddle fell silent, and the room was suddenly quiet.

Norah and Wally exchanged a smile as his grip tightened on her hand. “Ready?” he asked her cheerfully, with an undertone of solemnity. When she nodded, returning his smile with a brilliant one of her own, he led her a couple of steps forward so that they stood in front of Mr. Carrington. 

The minister’s opening address felt a blur to the couple as they stood, side by side, hand in hand, sneaking small sidelong glances and smiles. Eventually it was time for the vows, and they turned toward one another. Long ago, Norah had paced the drawing-room of Billabong with her father’s faded Bible in hand, repeating to herself over and over the words that would bind her forever to Wally. 

She recited them now, encouraged by his warm grip on her hands, and the love in his eyes as he watched her, barely moving. Then it was his turn, and his voice shook with emotion, bringing her almost to tears: and then she felt the cool weight of the new ring on her fourth finger. For a moment she admired it, before Wally’s hand covered it and she looked up at him again. 

Mr. Carrington was speaking again, but the only words that she heard were, “You may kiss the bride.” Wally’s face was very near to her, and they paused for a moment, very close together, as she fell into his brown eyes; and then he kissed her. They smiled at one another once more, before turning to look at the applauding congregation. 

It seemed a quick matter to sign all the necessary documents, before Wally guided her with an arm about her waist back to where they stood, before the people they loved, ready to begin their new life together. Norah slipped her hand into Wally’s, looking up at him proudly, and hearing his low, “It’s finally done, thank the Lord.”

* * *

_ Then, wonderfully soon it was over, and she was going back again, but this time by Wally’s side; and there were people standing up everywhere, and smiles on every face. And no one - not even Mrs. Edward Meadows - seemed to think it at all peculiar that Norah and Wally paused with one accord when they came to Brownie, and hugged her very heartily. They left the proudest old woman in Australia behind them as they passed on. _


	2. A New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally and Norah celebrate their reception with their family and friends, before departing on their honeymoon.

After spending some time in the hallway being congratulated by David and Jim Linton, Jean Yorke and the Rainhams, as their congregation dispersed toward the barn, they proceeded in orderly fashion towards that building. 

The others went in first, allowing them their first moment alone since they had been married. There seemed little to say that would further compound their happiness: Wally tugged Norah toward him and held her tightly, with due regard for her veil. For a long while they stood together, his lips against her hair, committing the moment to memory for all time. 

After some time Wally released her, and, taking her hand again, turned toward the doors to the barn. Inside, their family and friends awaited them. 

Hand-in-hand, they gained the interior of the barn, pushing wide the great doors with their free hands, and heard the applause from their guests. A guard of honour had been created leading to the high table, and the audience waited for them to sit down before taking their own seats. 

Speeches followed: Norah whispered to Wally that he must poke her in order to keep her awake during Mr. Carrington’s address, whilst the bridegroom appeared mildly irked as Jim spoke of mischievous moments during school years, and then grave when his new brother-in-law told those gathered of Wally’s participation in the greater game of War. 

A moment of silence was kept for those Jim, Wally and Norah had known who lay under foreign soil and were unable to attend; and then, amidst great pomp and circumstance, Brownie’s cake was brought forward.

The three-tiered erection was a mighty one to behold, and Jim declared that Norah would require an implement greater than a simple knife to cut it. Disappearing behind the high table, he reappeared bearing a sword that Wally recognised immediately as his from those days on the plains of France. 

“I do declare,” said Norah, hefting the sword in both hands, eyes running the length of the worn scabbard, “this is a wieldy tool for cutting a wedding cake!” And so to uproarious laughter, she drew it ceremoniously and carved the cake. 

Then dancing ensued: there was great banter and ribbing on all sides as Wally and Norah took to the floor first, entertaining the audience with a lively Charleston. 

Some hours later, Norah escaped to her bedroom where, with the help of Brownie, Tommy and Jean, she carefully removed her white gown and veil, replacing them with a plain frock and coat. As much as Jean lamented the austere look of her attire, Norah emerged from her room to an approving smile from her new husband. 

“Say we run away?” suggested Wally, holding out his hand to her. “I think I’m just about ready to have you to myself for a while!” 

“That sounds like a grand idea,” responded she, and they ran downstairs to a hail of rose-leaves and goodbyes. Norah’s heart was heavy for a moment as she farewelled first her brother, and then her father: and then she remembered that Brownie would take care of them, while she went on an exciting new adventure with Wally. 

And then they were away, Wally’s old hat on, accelerating down the open road away from Billabong. It was not until they were just past the township of Cunjee that Wally slowed, glancing across at Norah.

“Well, it really feels like an adventure now, doesn’t it?” 

She smiled, settling herself properly into the passenger seat. “It does. Drive on, Wally, I’m eager to find out where we sleep tonight; all that dancing and eating has tired me out!” 

Two hours later they found themselves approaching a little township on the border, the Singer’s headlights shining through the gathering darkness. Wally slowed almost to a crawl as they entered the main street, and their sleepy eyes searched left and right for a guesthouse or an inn.

Presently they found one, and Wally parked in a small gravel car park behind it. Norah got out and stretched her weary limbs, glad to be out of the car. “After some weeks travelling I dare say I will have got used to the car, but today is not that day,” remarked she, as Wally lifted first his duffel bag and then hers out of the boot. 

They went round to the front of the inn, eager to join in the warmth that radiated from within. Once inside, they were met by a kind woman in the lobby, who asked them what they wanted. 

Wally and Norah exchanged glances, before the latter replied, “We are on our honeymoon travelling, and we needed a place to stop for the night. Yours seemed like the best place!” 

“Honeymoon, is it?” asked the woman, leading them down a long passageway, lit every several yards by an electric lamp. “And how long have you kids been travelling? You seem pretty beat.”

“Just today,” answered Wally. “We toed the line promptly at midday - didn’t we, Nor? - and after much merriment and two-stepping in front of people we got away. We’re awfully grateful for the peace and quiet after all that fuss.” 

The woman stopped at a brown door bearing the number 29 crudely engraved in the wood, and turned to them. “You were just married today? Congratulations,” she crowed, when they nodded. “Here’s a room free; I don’t have many visitors at the moment so you’ll have some peace and quiet. There is a nice bedroom, and I chose this one for you such as it has a little bathroom attached to it.” 

“Thank you,” said Norah. “A way to wash and a place to sleep is all that we ask, and this seems like a pleasant one. May I ask when dinner is, and if we may serve ourselves if you are busy?” 

“Dinner finished an hour ago,” said their host, but when she saw their faces fall she hastened on to add, “You go in and wash up and make yourselves fresh, and I’ll make you some sandwiches. It’s no big task, and you’ll be glad to have your dinner made for you, tired that you are.” She shepherded them into the room amid their protestations, and then left them to explore whilst she made their sandwiches.

Wally crossed the room to peer out the window while Norah, feeling a wave of exhaustion overtake her, sat rather heavily on the end of the bed. Concerned, Wally turned to look at her. “Nor, dear, you look as though you are quite ready to fall asleep here and now.” 

“I feel like it,” she sighed, “but I simply can’t, not before having those sandwiches.” 

He disappeared into the attached bathroom and she heard a tap running, before Wally reappeared with a damp face-cloth, presumably sourced from a shelf in the bathroom. “Here, tip up your face,” he instructed her, and he smoothed the cool face-cloth over her flagging eyes, freshening her and waking her up somewhat, before repeating the ministrations on his own face.

There was a knock on the door: it was their landlady, bearing a tray with two hearty sandwiches atop it. After ascertaining what time breakfast the following morning was - any time they liked - they bade her goodnight and wolfed the sandwiches down, sitting on their bedroom floor. 

“Don’t you feel, after that cake, that sandwiches are delightfully simple?” Wally asked, sitting back eventually. Norah, eating her last mouthful, could only nod in agreement. 

They cleared up the tray and the crumbs, and made ready for bed. Since both had been awake before the sun that morning, bed seemed a necessity, one they were both eager for. 

Norah was in her pyjamas, leaning on the windowsill and staring out of the window at the darkened countryside when Wally emerged from the bathroom. Her brown hair had been let out of its strict fastenings, and now fell down her back. 

He hung his towel up on the rack nailed to the bathroom door, before going to stand behind her. Norah leaned back into him as he wrapped his arms about her waist, his hands finding hers in a firm, warm grip. The cool metal of her new wedding ring - the one he had bought her in Melbourne two months ago - surprised him for a moment, before he squeezed her hand tighter. 

“I am glad you are better,” she said softly. “All those many months ago, I told you I would only marry you when you were quite better - and here we are, which means that you must be quite all right.” 

“And all those many months ago, I told you I would get better and marry you,” returned he. “Now I have made good on that promise. But it feels much better than I had imagined.” 

Wally could not see her face, but he knew that his new wife was smiling. “I’m glad, Wally. There was a time when I thought we might never get here, but now that we have - well, I don’t think that I could be happier than I am at this moment.” 

His heart clenched, warm emotions flooding him. “Nor me,” he whispered, his lips very close to her ear, his breath moving a loose strand of her hair. “You have made me the happiest man alive.”

  
  



	3. Of Ravines and Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good night's sleep and a lie-in, Wally and Norah set out on the first real day of their adventure.

“Breakfast!” 

Norah blinked, flinching at the sudden shaft of sunlight that flooded the room. The small clock on her nightstand, when she squinted at it, told her that it was after nine. 

Behind her, the bed dipped and she rolled over just in time to see Wally, already fully dressed, settle himself against his pillows with a tray on his lap. There were two steaming mugs resting atop the tray, and the heavenly smell of toast wafted across to her. 

“Oh Wally, you brick!” she sighed, shifting across the bed and propping up her pillows so that she could sit beside him. “Which mug is mine, dare I ask?”

His mouth was full; he could only nod to the one nearest to her, which she picked up and wrapped her hands around. It was still warm, and she breathed in the steam rising from the tea. 

Wally swallowed his mouthful of toast, and picked up his own mug. “I can’t remember the last time I slept past eight, Nor. I feel truly lazy.” 

“Me too,” she murmured. “It feels divine not to feel as though I have to get up immediately and do some job that I have been putting off for days.” 

“At least the shearing has been done, so that’s a load off our minds,” remarked Wally. “I shouldn’t have felt comfortable going away until after that was finished.” 

Norah laughed. “Chiefly the reason we decided to get married in November, I think. That and your leg needing to heal up.” 

“It’s not bad, is it?” Wally shook his once-broken leg experimentally. “The doctors up in Brisbane did a jolly good job on it. Anderson too, even if I did rail against my ban from riding at the first.” 

The toast had entirely disappeared from the tray by this point, and they sat for a few moments nursing their respective mugs of tea. “What do you want to do today, Nor?” asked Wally. “Bearing in mind that we have all the time in the world…” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she laughed. “We have had a slow start already, which has been wonderful. It’s so lovely to spend this time with you without worrying that we will be interrupted or called away to other duties.” 

Wally slipped his free arm about her shoulders, drawing her close to him, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I have an idea, if it’s not too out-of-the-way.” 

“Do tell,” she hummed, taking another sip of her tea. “I’m sure that whatever plan you have got brewing will be a fine one.” 

“I know that tone,” returned he. “Very well, I shall tell you. Say that we do a long loop around to the west, avoiding those ranges to the north of Billabong, and drive down towards Mount Macedon and Hanging Rock?” 

Norah considered this idea, staring out of the window at the green expanse beyond. “Are we going to climb Hanging Rock, in this plan?” she asked, reaching up to take the hand that rested on her shoulder. 

“We are.” 

“It will take us all day to get there, if we start now,” she mused, “so we might have to stay in Woodend overnight and climb tomorrow.” Looking up at him, she smiled and squeezed his hand. “Let’s do it, Wally. It will be such an adventure.”

He let her go then, returning her smile with one of his own and taking her now-empty mug from her. “You get ready then, while I return these breakfast implements to our landlady. Don’t worry about rushing - as I said, we have all the time in the world.” 

An hour later they were on the road, Wally driving again while Norah reclined in the passenger seat. They were already beginning to make their way west, but the green paddocks here and there gave way to the red dirt that signified the drought which plagued the border towns. 

Norah was beginning to doze off when the little Singer crested a hill and began its descent. The hill was by no means steep, but it was what she saw about them that made Norah open her eyes wide. 

Along the road were lined a number of plane trees, creating a shaded avenue that was paradise to the native animals who hated the oppressive late-spring sun. All about them the grass was green and well-kept - by some ranger, perhaps - and there were bushes upon bushes of common heath scattered across the grass. 

When they neared the bottom, Wally applied the brake ever-so-gently, and they followed the road around into an entirely new country. 

The road now ran along a little ravine, the water babbling and burbling over little rocks as it ran on its merry way. On either side of the road and ravine, orange and red sandstone cliffs rose away from the creek, meeting the blue sky above. 

“I say, Wally,” breathed Norah, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. “I think that we need a photograph or two here.” 

“Agreed,” he answered. “Just as soon as the road widens a little I’ll pull over.”

Some three hundred yards on, a shoulder appeared on the left side of the road, and it was into this that Wally pulled the little Singer. This parking spot afforded excellent views of the scenery - and there was a small wooden bench, into the bargain! 

They got out of the car, marvelling at the tableau presented before them by Mother Nature. Norah went to sit on the bench whilst Wally fetched the camera out of the boot. 

It was a small bench, wide enough for two and made from what appeared to be fallen or sawn tree branches, chopped and shaved to precision to prevent any splinters from entering the leg of unsuspecting visitors. 

Wally seemed to be taking some time; Norah twisted around on the bench to call out to him, but the words died in her mouth when she saw him standing some yards away, simply watching her. 

“Stay there,” he instructed, squatting down a little and wielding the camera.

“Wally,” she laughed, feeling half-conscious of herself, but rather enjoying the thought that the beauty of this place would be immortalised in a photograph that they could take home and show the family. 

Some seconds later, Wally stood and walked towards her, looking for the switch which would turn the camera off. He joined her on the bench, and together they looked out across the ravine towards the sandstone cliffs. 

“Did you ever know such a country existed?” he asked, eyes fixed on the soaring crags, watching the clouds float by, high above them. “I didn’t.” 

“I did not,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” She too turned her eyes skyward, hoping to catch some glimpse of an eagle or falcon, circling above. 

“It is,” Wally answered in a low voice, and when she looked back at him he was watching her, a small smile turning up at the corners of his mouth. A hale blush rose in her cheeks, and she shook her head minutely. 

He took her hand, his thumb smoothing across her wedding ring, while she looked out again at the ravine. “I feel so lucky to have found this place,” she said, “and shared it with you.” 

His laugh came then, easy and relaxed. “I am sure that you will say the same thing when we have stumbled upon a hundred such places, and I will shake my head and sit on the car while you go for a swim in the creek.” 

“Oh-h-h,” she breathed, “a swim would be lovely, except it’s too dangerous here. But if we find a place, then we must stop, Wally. I have not been for a good swim since - well, since yesterday!” 

“‘Twas a good swim,” he grinned, getting up and pulling her up with him. “As glorious as this is, we must push on if we are to make Woodend by nightfall.” 

The sun’s rays were beginning to slant when, some hours later, Norah drove into the little town of Woodend. Situated deep in the Macedon Ranges, only fifty miles from Town, it was a quiet township that boasted no attraction but the looming shadow of Hanging Rock, some five miles distant. 

Wally was asleep in the passenger’s seat, tired from driving, and so Norah endeavoured to remain as silent as possible while she dropped to a crawl down the main street, being careful around the horse-carts and pedestrians. They wanted a guest-house, and if they found one before dinner she thought she might drag Wally out for a walk. 

There was a small guest-house near the end of the main street, outside where a blackboard announced four vacancies within. It looked small and inviting, and so Norah pulled off into the adjoining car-park. 

With the car beautifully parked, she switched off the engine and turned to Wally. Oblivious to her stare, he slept on, his deep, quiet breathing telling her that he was entirely comfortable. 

She made an executive decision to leave him there, and got out to explore their immediate surroundings. Unlike the previous night’s inn, this guest-house had a back door by which visitors could gain entry. Norah was very grateful for this, as it saved them from dragging their heavy bags around to the front door. 

Opening her car door again, she ducked back in and decided to shake Wally’s shoulder ever-so-slightly. Another shake, and he came awake with a mumble and a groan, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely.

“Where’re we, Nor?” he asked ungrammatically, not yet having regained control of his speech. 

“In Woodend,” she answered, “and I’ve parked us outside a lovely-looking guest-house. Come on, let’s get our bags and go in. They have four rooms open, and we need only squash ourselves into one - so there must be space for us!” 

Just as they had the previous night, they carried their bags inside and sought out the owner, this time a short, rotund man with a grey beard. He greeted them with a curt, “What are you doin’ here?” 

“We have come to find lodgings,” Wally answered. “My wife saw outside that you have some room for travellers, so we thought we would try our luck.” 

At this, the man’s demeanour wholly changed. “Of course, of course. My apologies, I have had one too many peddlers passin’ through here and usin’ my place to sell their wares. One gets suspicious, after a time.” 

Unhooking a key from behind the desk, the man gestured to them to follow him. “You two are in luck, for we have the big bedroom and bathroom ensuite upstairs. Only - the bath-taps don’t quite work, so you will have to come downstairs and fill a kettle to have your bath. I hope that doesn’t trouble you.” 

Wally and Norah agreed that it did not, and were soon left alone in their room, considerably larger than the one they had woken up in that morning. The lead-lighted bay window afforded them a view of Hanging Rock in the distance - their destination tomorrow. 

Once they had freshened up and enjoyed a short lie-down atop the downy quilt, they ventured out into the town of Woodend. Quiet by the standards of the Macedon Ranges and its proximity to Town, it was fairly bustling tonight. Horse-carts trotted past, with indignant drivers shouting at pedestrians to move out of the way. Down the street, two little girls played hopscotch just outside their front door. 

The Meadows wandered down the street, marvelling at all they saw. In some ways it was just like Cunjee, but it differed in many other ways. Near the reserve, they found a sweet shop and, exchanging a glance, went in. 

When they emerged, Wally bearing a bag of lollies, they made for the reserve and found somewhere to sit down. In the middle of the grassy oval, a group of boys were playing chase, their mothers sitting nearby to knit and socialise. 

“Don’t you think this is all very novel?” asked Wally, passing the bag to Norah. 

“It is,” she answered. “I don’t recall quite so many horse-carts in Main Street in Cunjee!” 

“Oh well,” said he, comfortably, “our room is ripping, even if the bath doesn’t work, and tomorrow we will make for Hanging Rock! Do we start early, Nor?” 

She nodded, contemplating the knitting mothers. “I think we had better, if we want to make a full day of it. We can climb the Rock by one, and then be back here for dinner. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather we don’t try to find somewhere else to stay tomorrow night.” 

Wally agreed around a mouthful of hard-boiled lolly. “It would be an awful drag, having to come back down and then drive miles to find a place to stay. No, I think you are right - we had better stay another night in Woodend.” 

“I never thought I would live to see the day when you admitted that I was right,” said Norah mildly, and the matter was settled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Billabong Adventurers, when we find Wally and Norah again, they talk about how some of the places they stayed failed to provide a proper bath for them and apologised profusely, when all they would have really liked was a kettle and a plain wash-tub! So I thought I should inject some of that into this story. :)


	4. Hanging Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good night's rest, Wally and Norah explore Hanging Rock.

The next morning they rose early and breakfasted with vigour in the empty morning-room off the guest-house’s lobby. Having stolen sandwiches from the kitchen and packed their rucksacks, they set off in the little Singer for the Rock at eight. 

It was a short drive: only eight miles, and they were there before nine. The primitive carpark at its base was empty: clearly, no one else wished to venture out so early in the day, a fact which both Wally and Norah found to their liking, as they had the Rock to themselves. 

They started up the sloping path; at first, their boots crunched on gravel, before this gave way to an overgrown path full of weeds. This appeared to be trimmed now and again, but not often enough to sufficiently clear the small thistles that popped up in front of the heavy boots. 

After some hours’ steady climbing, including three stops to have a drink of water and admire the views, they finally gained the top at about midday. Finding themselves at the end of their journey, they stopped dead and took in the views. 

From their vantage point atop Hanging Rock, they were afforded panoramic views of the sprawling Macedon Ranges, stretching into the distance. All below them was a mass of green, and the odd kangaroo bounded across bushy paddocks before disappearing into the trees. In the distance, the town of Woodend could just be seen, its outline dark against the greenness of the ranges.

“I say, Nor,” Wally murmured. “Did you ever see such a view?” 

“I did not,” said his wife, “and I think that you had better pass me the camera, so that I can take a photograph to show everyone at home.” 

Wally reluctantly handed over the camera, going to investigate the view from closer to the edge of the cliff. He stayed away from the precipice, however, having no such desire to find himself tumbling over it. 

His brown eyes taking in the landscape before him, Wally stood in breathless wonder. The only other time he had been a party to such views was upon visiting his eldest brother in Far North Queensland; Herbert had taken him up Black Mountain, where the brothers had been afforded a spectacle such as this. 

Unbeknownst to Wally, Norah stood behind him, searching for just the right spot from which to wield the camera. Having found it, she lifted it to her eyes, struggling a little with the large machine. Within the viewscope, she could see Wally’s long form, his back to her, with the ranges falling away beyond him. 

It was a perfect shot, and once completed she joined him near the edge, the camera slung over one shoulder, taking his hand in both of her own and leaning against his shoulder. They stood for some moments, hand-in-hand, enjoying the scenery. 

“We should eat,” said Wally suddenly, turning to her sharply. “By Jove, I completely forgot about the food that we brought up with us! I blame the view.” 

Norah laughed and allowed herself to be led away to an ideal picnicking spot closer to the path. “When you say that we should eat, Wally, is that your stomach speaking?” 

“Maybe,” he hedged, swinging his rucksack off his shoulders. “Do put that camera down for a moment, Nor, it will do your shoulder in if you carry it for much longer.” 

She acquiesced while he pulled the folded picnic rug out of his rucksack and spread it on the ground. The top of the Rock was covered in small stones and tiny ants that scurried to and fro, so she was rather grateful for the smooth woollen rug to sit on. 

They ate their sandwiches in relative peace, broken only by the squawking of the lorikeets, some distance below, and presently Wally scrunched up the brown paper bag in one hand and dropped it neatly back into his rucksack. Stretching his arms out over his head, he lay down on his back and contemplated the sky. 

“I have a feeling it will rain tonight,” Norah said, following his gaze upward. “It just has that feeling, doesn’t it, of a lovely summer storm.” 

“Hopefully when it does, we will be safely ensconced inside in our room,” said he, lazily. “Tired as I will be, I will have no desire to be soaked through to my skin!” 

At the very mention of being tired, Norah found that her own eyelids seemed to droop, and she pushed aside her rucksack and lay down in the crook of Wally’s arm, flinging her own across his sternum. 

Blinking, she sat up, looking around her. Nothing appeared to have changed - the wind had died down a little, perhaps, but the sky above remained blue and the sun high. She looked down and saw Wally, fast asleep, the lines in his forehead wrought by the War and Queensland now smoothed out. 

Norah got slowly to her feet, thinking that she might poke around a little, but not too far. They still had to descend in time for dinner, after all. She set off in the direction of a small thicket, close to the path’s head. 

Emerging through a bush, she found herself in a tiny clearing. It wasn’t much to speak of: it was small and barely wide enough for two people. There was no shade from the burning sun, and any rain would almost certainly drive a sane person out. It was a little disappointing, but exciting that she had found a small world separate from the boulders outside.

“Norah!” 

It was Wally calling, and she endeavoured to answer as she slipped out of the small clearing. He was sitting up on the picnic rug, his knees drawn up, forearms resting on his knees. When she came in sight, he smiled up at her, a softness in his eyes that made her heart warm. 

“We ought to get going,” he said. “We’ve a rough descent, and I don’t want us to rush it and break an ankle. If we leave now we should be comfortably in time for dinner without falling headlong down the Rock!” 

They packed up the picnic rug, Wally returned the camera to the top of his rucksack and, after ensuring that they had left behind no litter or stray belongings, they made for the track and started their descent.

Several hours later, they were having dinner at the guest-house, the Singer parked in the garage out the back, when the rain came. Their table sat next to a window, so they had a front-row seat to the downpour as it drummed on the roofs and bounced off the ground outside.

“Aren’t we glad we got back in time!” uttered Norah, resting her chin on the heel of her hand and watching, mesmerised. “Lucky that the car is parked under cover.” 

“Lucky that  _ we _ are parked under cover!” retorted her husband, leaning back in his seat and nursing the half-drunk glass of red wine that he and Norah had agreed to treat themselves to tonight. Hers sat on the table, held in place by her hand on its stem. 

Norah furrowed her eyebrows briefly, and then looked at him. “I think this is the first storm we have seen all summer, is it not?” 

“I believe it is,” said Wally slowly. “Goodness, look at that cat go! I hope it has somewhere dry to sleep tonight. It looks like a drowned rat already!” 

They laughed together, and then Wally said, “Nor, I feel as though we made a good day’s work out of exploring today. I feel fairly tired; what would you say to a sleep-in and continuing west at about lunch-time? No rush.” 

“That sounds heavenly,” she sighed. “Hanging Rock was beautiful, but there must be more wild country further west. And,” conspiratorially, “perhaps a plain-Jane bathtub and a nice kettle to fill it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little anecdote that none of you asked for:
> 
> When I was 14, my teachers at school decided that we should go on an excursion to Hanging Rock. We were studying Picnic at Hanging Rock at the time, and the school managed to organise the excursion for the second week of the term - on Valentine's Day, just like the book. 
> 
> We dressed up in 1900s outfits, with a t-shirt and shorts underneath to wear for the actual climb, and my mum sourced a plain white sack of a dress for me to wear, and lent me a black shawl to wear it. Our Principal also dressed up for the fun of it, and bade us farewell at the gates just like Mrs Appleyard does in the book. 
> 
> The local newspaper came along, as it happened, and chose seven or so girls to do a photoshoot on the Rock in our period dress - and I was one. I still have photographs taken by the paper of me sitting and standing in various positions endeavouring to look exactly like one of those girls from Mrs Appleyard's college. One of the photos eventually made it into the Monday paper, but it was one centred on another girl and I was a blur in the background! Never mind.
> 
> We all returned that day - but one girl sprained her ankle at the top of Hanging Rock and had to be half-carried down by two of our teachers! 
> 
> So that's my experience of Hanging Rock, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> ...because who doesn't love a good fill-in-the-gap fic, right?


End file.
